Whee, first fanfic. And now for that wonderful disclaimer!
Disclaimer: I don't own Pokemon. You'd know if I did, believe me.
Red Rage
I didn't want to do it, you know that right? I didn't want to slit your Pokemon's throat like cows at the slaughter house. I don't kill for the sheer joy of killing, like so many of your pathetic race thinks. You kept following me, and each time you appeared, I defeated you. But I knew that one day you would become stronger, and you would take away my freedom. So I killed your Pokemon. I thought that that would make you understand. It seemed to be the right thing to do at the time, but now…
The giant, shiny mantis looked at the fallen bird, to its trainer, whose face was twisted with grief and rage, to his own scythe. It was clean. The death stroke had been delivered so fast that no blood had stained the smooth exterior. The ground was moist with the dark liquid, which was still flowing from the giant eagle's throat. Wings still twitching, eyes still open, red and yellow feathers plastered to its head. A scarlet pool was forming around its body.
That wasn't the real reason. You and I both know that. I wanted to kill. I wanted to hurt you. I wanted to see you suffer. Maybe I am just a blood-thirsty killer…
When the Scyther looked up again, the trainer had gone. Glancing at the body, he took off into the sky, his wings beating so fast that they were just a blur.
How long has it been? A week? A month? I thought I had seen the last of you. You didn't come back. Not after I killed your slave. Why are you here now? Did you think I would forget? You humans are dumber than I thought. Only death awaits you here.
The Scyther had the boy pinned up against a tree, his scythe inches from the trainer's throat.
Your eyes do not show fear. Why are you not afraid? Do you want me to kill you? Well, you'll get your wi-
The Scyther's thought was cut off by a sickening crunch. In less than a second his eyes were glazed, his pulse quickened, and it became painful to breathe. Slowly, he looked down at his body, and his eyes widened in terror at what he saw.
A scythe, exactly like his own, was jutting out of his stomach, glistening red, his intestines coiled around it. Blood started flowing from his mouth. He collapsed on the ground.
I guess you were right…
The scythe was raised to deliver the death stroke.
Maybe we are just mindless killers…